
The ball no question makes of Ayes and Noes,
But here and there as strikes the player goes;
And he that toss’d you down into the field,
He knows about it all--He knows--HE knows!
The moving finger writes; and, having writ,
Moves on: nor all your piety nor wit
Shall lure it back to cancel half a line,
Nor all your tears wash out a word of it.







BEACH VOLLEY BALL...


















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